


Shabon de C'est si Bon

by taishige



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, TOKIO
Genre: Clashing personalities, Hurt/Comfort, Leader in an oversized shirt, Leader the leech, M/M, Nagase sucks at taking care of people, Sexualities get questioned, not quite fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taishige/pseuds/taishige
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nagase's never prided himself on being much of a caretaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shabon de C'est si Bon

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short, random cute little thing, but grew considerably as I started writing it. Ah, well. Considerably more fluffy than I'm used to writing, but I'd been wanting to write something happier for a while, and this idea had been floating around in my head, so I finally sat down and wrote it. It's actually _less_ fluffy than I'd imagined it would be, as it started to lend itself towards snark and emotional conflict more than anything else, lmao. But what else would you expect with this pairing?

Nagase had been minding his own business in the dressing room when Joshima came in. His stuff was scattered out across the table, today's lunch of conbini tonkatsu, triple-cheese cream bread and Lipton milk tea in a stage of half-eatenness next to his bag of clothes and dirty socks. He still had an hour before he was expected at the stylist's, so he was making full use of his time and catching up on the week's JUMP with his feet splayed out on the floor and the straw to his milk tea perched just so, allowing him to merely tilt his head and be able to take a sip.

When Joshima came in, he barely glanced up, head not even moving and eyes simply drifting over the top of his multi-colored manga pages.

Joshima had his knapsack slung over one shoulder and his jacket folded over his arm. His lips curled up into the faintest trace of a smile when he saw Nagase, the door clicking shut behind him.

"Good morning..."

"Yo."

Nagase's eyes went back to his manga, thoroughly engrossed by whether or not Luffy was going to take the bait or not. He tilted his head and took a sip of milk tea, smacking his lips together.

He made it to the bottom of the page and dexterously slid a finger beneath the thin paper, flipping it over with practiced perfection.

There was a thud off to the side, wrenching his eyes away from the ink for a moment. Joshima was half-leaned over by the couch, having just slid his knap off to the floor, accounting for the noise. Nagase furrowed his brows together, keeping his eyes on the other man as he slung his jacket over the arm of the couch and sat down, not wanting another sudden noise or disturbance to break his concentration again.

Once Joshima appeared settled, he sniffed, wiped the back of his hand on his stubbled chin, and went back to his imaginary world.

The silence returned.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Nagase's finger was the only thing that moved, sliding effortlessly beneath each sheet of his anthology and flipping to a new page without so much as a millisecond's gap in his reading comprehension.

He tilted his head again, lips reaching out to find the straw he knew to be there, but accidentally bumped it out of reach instead of engulfing it, forcing his eyes away from the manga in order to relocate and take it in his mouth. In doing so, his eyes flipped back up towards the couch and his bandmate of whom was still residing on it.

Nagase's face froze in a state of straw-sucking pouting.

Joshima was leaned fully back into the couch with his head tucked in towards his chest, arms crossed in what looked like an attempt to conserve heat. His eyes were closed.

Nagase's lips left the straw and he blinked in silence for a moment, absentmindedly chewing his cud. After a few seconds, he let his eyes wander back to his waiting manga. He found the panel he'd left off on, settling back into his chair as he let his mind sink back into reading mode.

Except that he couldn't quite.

At least not like before.

He turned the page when he reached the end, but his eyes glanced up again. Joshima was completely still aside from his breathing, slightly more labored than normal if Nagase was anyone to make a judgment.

"Leader, you ok?"

There was a flicker of movement. Joshima's head rose up from his chest, eyes searching out until they found Nagase's. The little half-smile from earlier returned, and he tilted his head with seeming happiness.

"I'm fine. I think I've caught a little cold or something. A bit under the weather, is all."

Nagase's look of concern refused to dissipate, eyebrows furrowing just a bit further, but Joshima remained unreceptively happy.

Nagase raised an eyebrow and pulled the side of his mouth up into a smirk. "Don't get close to me with your old man disease. I have important things to do today."

There was a little chuckle in response, Joshima's shoulders shaking, but nothing followed, and the other man simply settled back into the couch cushions as he'd been previously.

Nagase's smirk fell, face once again a look of confused concern.

He bit his lip and forced his eyes back to his manga.

The clock up near the door tick, ticked away at every second. Nagase couldn't focus on the words in front of him anymore as each click of the secondhand jabbed at his brain. He reached the end of the page, but couldn't remember what had happened, forced to veer his eyes back to the top for a reread.

He turned the page after five unsuccessful attempts.

It wasn't for another five minutes that he looked up again, unable to even try anymore. Joshima was in the same position as earlier, if not slightly more scrunched in the pathetic lump his body made weighing down on the cushions.

Goddammit.

Nagase chewed on his bottom lip. He was staring, but it didn't matter as Joshima's eyes were buried.

Why wasn't Gussan or Mabo here? They would know what to do. They were the best when it came to taking care of their bandleader, right? Why did he have to come in all sickly and pathetic when it was just him in the dressing room? He wasn't good at this kind of crap.

He silently closed his manga anthology, tracing the spine with his thumb as he glanced almost nervously about the room, half-hoping one of their aforementioned other bandmembers would decide to grace the dressing room with their presence.

No such luck, as it were. Another minute dragged on, Nagase staring off into the space by the door as the secondhand continued to tick, tick away at his sanity.

At long length, he pursed his lips together and set his book down on the table, taking one last look at its cover before he rose to his feet. Joshima didn't look up. And he continued in his not looking up as Nagase padded his way slowly over to the couch, hands buried deep in his pockets and facial expression more than a bit sheepish.

He stopped for a moment a few centimeters from the couch, eyes taking in the pathetic mass in front of him.

He'd never felt more awkward in his life.

With the grace of a dying hyena, he lowered himself onto the couch next to Joshima, not even taking his hands from his pockets. Joshima didn't look over. Didn't even flinch. Nagase's legs remained clenched, as if not wanting to surrender his full weight to the couch cushion below his rear end, but they finally relented and he let himself settle all the way in.

He munched at the inside of his cheek.

"Hey." His voice sounded moronic. He tried lowering it a bit so he didn't sound so much like a tool. "Hey, you ok?"

Joshima finally looked up, eyes flashing wide for a moment when he realized Nagase was right next to him.

Nagase took the opportunity to stick his hand out, paying no heed to personal space nor asking for permission and simply sticking his palm to the other man's forehead.

Joshima blanched. His eyes turned skywards towards Nagase's hand.

"Jesus Christ, Leader!" Nagase reclaimed his hand, wiping it off not at all stealthily on his pantleg. "You're like, burning up!"

That idiotic little half-smile from earlier returned, Joshima scratching the top of his head. "I told you, I'm just feeling a bit under the weather..."

Nagase rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that shit. A bit under the weather is a cough or a sore throat, not a fucking fever."

"Language, Nagase."

"You shouldn't even be here! You'll just get worse." He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to put on his best air of slight concern but mostly indifference.

Joshima just stared up at him, eyes round and a piece of his hair sticking up humorously from the midst of the messy mop on his head. Finally, his eyes lowered and he leaned back into the cushions, head giving a little shake.

"I have a meeting today, so I had to come."

Nagase just glared down reproachfully at the response, unsure what to say. His arms remained curled tight across his chest, expression slowly furrowing into one of frustration. Joshima remained silent as well, which returned the room to a complete standstill, Nagase feeling his patience waning.

It was when the secondhand of the clock ground its way all along the outside of the clockface once more that Nagase did it. He wasn't quite sure what prompted it, nor where he got the gall to actually do it, it just kind of happened.

"Alright, I'm staging an intervention!" was what came out of his mouth, Joshima's head barely having time to rise up in confusion before Nagase was on him, arms wrapped around his smaller frame and promptly tugging him up and off the couch, pressing him awkwardly tight against his chest.

Joshima flailed, arms out to his sides and legs kicking out in panic.

"What are you doing?!"

Nagase's head was turning on a swivel as he clenched his arms tight in order to keep the other man in his grasp. "It's an intervention, you're not allowed to ask questions." He headed for the door, using his hip to push it open and slip outside.

Joshima beat his hands on Nagase's shoulders, almost causing him to fall clean out of his arms, which apparently scared the bejeezus out of him as he quickly clung tight to Nagase's frame instead. "L-let me go!"

"Sorry, I'm not at liberty to do that." Nagase readjusted his grip around the other's lower half, peeking cautiously around the nearby corner before dashing forward down the hallway. He didn't stop until they made it to one of the side exits, pushing the door open once more with his hip and scuttling outside into the slightly crisp autumn air.

"Where the hell are we going?!"

"Language, Leader."

Joshima yanked on Nagase's curls, which brought a satisfying gag from the other's throat.

It didn't stop his trek though, and it only took a few minutes for them to arrive at the entrance to the parking garage, Nagase pushing the button for the elevator to take them up to the third floor, the door opening to reveal rows and rows of parked vehicles.

"Tomoya."

"What?" Nagase shifted the lump in his arms to his left side so he could use his other hand to open the door to his 50 Ford Truck.

"Where are we _going_?" Joshima's voice came out laced with annoyance.

Nagase pushed him into the door of the truck, nudging his legs until they were all the way inside before shutting the door in his face. He didn't even look up to catch what he assumed would be a very perturbed expression aimed in his direction, dusting his hands off as he wound his way around to the left side of the truck. Opening the door, he straightened out the Indian blanket he had covering his seat before occupying it with his own rear end.

Joshima was giving him a death glare from the other side of the single, long seat that made up the front of his truck.

There was a rumble as Nagase started the engine. He glanced to his right, expression one of mock confusion. "What?"

"Where are you taking me?"

Nagase pulled the truck out of its spot and began maneuvering it down the lanes of the parking garage.

"Home."

"You're not taking me home! I have things I need to do today, and besides, it'll take over an hour to drive there this time of day."

The truck was in the elevator, taking them down to ground level before the door opened out to the street. Nagase stuck his 200 yen into the nearby machine before pulling out.

"I never said I was taking you to _your_ home."

Joshima blinked in silence.

"My place is close. I can take you there and still have time to make it back for my shoot this afternoon."

"You're not taking me to your apartment. Let me out." Joshima started tugging on the handle to his door.

Nagase glanced down to make sure the childlock was on, then gave a little whistle as he began driving complacently through Tokyo metro traffic.

"This is kidnapping." Joshima settled unhappily back in his seat, arms crossed in front of him.

"No, it's nooot..." Nagase shook his head with a laugh. "You haven't been a kid for a _long_ time, Leader!"

"You're endangering my life."

"I'm doing you a favor! You just need some time to rest, so I'm forcing you to."

"I don't need to rest, I'm fine! I need to be back in the office so I can go to my meeting!"

"I'll tell them you won't be making it in today, it's fine."

"This is crazy! Just let me go already!"

Nagase began yelling 'intervention' as loud as he could as he turned the next corner, not stopping until Joshima gave up trying to talk and simply sat pouting in his seat.

He glanced over, still not sure himself exactly why he was doing this, but enjoying himself all the same as he tapped his fingers on the wheel. Reaching a hand out, he flipped on the radio, twisting the dated dial back and forth until he found a quality station. Hamada Shogo's _Sayonara Game_ came through the speakers, and Nagase began humming along with it, one hand tapping his knee as he waited for the light to change.

They continued along in relative silence save the radio, traffic causing his normal ten minute commute to stretch into fifteen. The radio DJs had just come on with their mid-afternoon show as he pulled into the elevator for the parking garage connected to his apartment building. He glanced over at Joshima as he waited through their ascent, finding the other man looking very much as he had back on the couch in the dressing room. His eyes were closed, head curled in towards the back of his seat and arms loosely circling his torso. Nagase's face clouded in concern, eyes returning forward as he steered the truck towards a spot near the exit door.

Upon parking, he slid out of his seat and headed for the opposite door, Joshima still curled up in his own seat.

"Coooome on, Leader..." Nagase maneuvered his arms around the other's frame, tugging him out of the vehicle and back into his arms.

Joshima made a noise of disapproval, but settled limply against his shoulder all the same. "Take me back..."

"I'm not taking you back." Nagase swung the door shut behind him before getting a better grip around the other's rear end, taking off for the door leading to his apartment building. Once inside, it was simply up two floors and three doors down on the left. He finagled his key from his back pocket so he could get the door open and make his way inside.

"We're here..." He shifted Joshima up in his arms again, reaching over towards the nearby lightswitch before deciding against it as he wasn't going to stay long anyway. Sliding his shoes off in the entryway, he headed straight back towards the bedroom, still relatively dark as he hadn't bothered to open his curtains when he'd woken up that morning. He shuffled over to the only hastily-made bed and let Joshima slide off his shoulder, slumping down on the mattress.

Joshima looked at him lethargically, earlier vigor gone, as Nagase leaned down to take his shoes off for him. Once they were off, he took them back to the entryway and gave them a cubbyhole in the shoerack.

"You bring anything else to wear, Leader?" He ran a hand through his curls as he padded his way back to the bedroom. Joshima gave him a blank look in return. "...oh wait. Shit. I forgot your bag in the dressing room."

"Some intervention..." Joshima coughed weakly into his hand.

"You hush, you old man." Nagase jabbed his finger in the other man's general direction. He turned on the light in his closet and opened the door, revealing a helter-skelter mess of shelves, half-folded clothing, and hangers which looked about to lose the clothes they were currently holding. Nagase paid none of this any mind, stepping straight over to one of the shelves and beginning to rifle through a pile.

He stepped back out after he'd found what he was looking for.

"Here, this is the smallest one I have..." He held a dark-red sweatshirt out in his hands, walking back to the bed with a sheepish smile. He tossed it towards Joshima, who didn't even try to catch it, resulting in the sweatshirt smacking him in the face.

Nagase's lip poked out in a pout as he bent down to grab it from its new location on the floor. He placed it on the bed beside Joshima. "Here. You. You change into this. I'll... pills, I should have pills or something around here you can take." He scratched his head, that awkward feeling from before returning as it became clear he didn't know what he was doing and had no idea how to take care of someone who was sick, let alone his bandleader.

He wandered back out of the room towards the kitchen, opening up the drawers by the sink and scrounging through their contents with his hand. The noise prompted Liv out of her kennel, having been in the middle of her mid-afternoon nap, and now Nagase could feel her nose pressing into the side of his leg.

"Hey, girl." He let a hand reach down to rub the top of her head. "We're gonna have a guest for a little while, ok? You need to take care of him for me." He found a little bottle of ibuprofen, shaking it to make sure there were actually pills inside, and then kneeled down so he could get a better look at Liv's face. Scritching behind her ears, he smiled down at her questioning look. "You'll do that for me, won't you?"

With a final pat, he got back to his feet and headed towards the bedroom. "Hey Leader, I found some ibu-..."

He stopped.

Joshima'd already changed into the sweatshirt, shirt and pants now lying in a pile at the bottom of the bed with himself curled up towards the top, practically swimming in the bulky red fabric of the sweatshirt and head buried in one of the pillows with his eyes closed and shoulders rising and falling softly.

"...profen." Nagase scratched the bridge of his nose. Then he sighed, stepping over towards the bed and setting the pill bottle on the bedside table. "Hey dumbie, you didn't get under the covers." He reached over to carefully pull the covers out from under Joshima's form, pulling them up and over him until he was nestled quite snugly inside. Grabbing the other's abandoned clothing, he attempted a quick fold-job, only to result in them looking perhaps worse than they did when they were in a pile, so he ended up just hanging them over the back of the nearby chair.

Liv looked at him reproachfully from her spot beside the bed.

Nagase just scoffed. "I'd like to see _you_ do any better."

He made his way back to the bed, looking down at Joshima sound asleep in the mussed up covers of his bed. He looked so tiny, like he could pick him up and keep him in the palm of his hand.

"Alright..." Nagase spoke to no one. "...I'll be back. When my shoot's over. So just... yeah." He awkwardly scratched at his head, then looked over to Liv. "Remember your job, ok?"

With a final glance at the bed, he headed back towards the entryway to put his shoes back on and make his exit. Liv watched him from the hallway as he shut the door behind him, locking it with a crisp flick of his keys.

\----------------------

When Nagase left his shoot later that day, he stopped by the grocery store. He was in the rice aisle, one hand up with a finger running past the various shaped bags of grains, while the other was perched at his hip, screen of his smart phone staring up at him and one thumb ready to scroll if the need arose.

"Rice, rice, rice, rice..."

The recipe on his phone told him he needed one half cup of short-grain rice.

"There's like a million kinds of rice here!" He rubbed at the stubble on his chin in frustration, gnawing on his bottom lip. "Which one is better than the others?"

After another couple of minutes absently staring at the rows of rice, he finally grabbed a misshapen cream-colored bag from the middle of the pack. He looked back to his phone, blinking in silence.

"...that's really all I need?"

His eyes stayed fixed for a few moments more, then he simply shrugged and made his way to the front of the store, though not before a short detour to the refrigerated aisle to grab himself a twelve-pack of Asahi Super Dry.

The drive back to his apartment was uneventful.

It had long since turned dark, and the overhead lights were on in the parking garage as he hauled his purchases out of his truck and made his way inside. The inside of his apartment, however, was pitch black, and he popped the switch of the light up as he slid his shoes off with a flick of his ankles.

"Leader...?"

He ventured into the kitchen, flicking the lights on over the island counter as well before plopping his things down on it. He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up as he made his way towards the bedroom.

"Leader...?" It was more of a whisper this time. He couldn't see worth a damn any further into the room, so he padded his way inside and towards the bed. Upon nearing it, the lump still sleeping soundly on top came into view, shoulders rising and falling softly with each breath, and one arm around Liv's form, the dog curled up at his side and fast asleep herself.

Nagase shook his head in amusement, letting his hands fall into his pockets.

He walked back out of the room in silence. His living room and his kitchen were one big room, divided only by the line that separated carpet from tile, and he took the time now to walk through and turn on the lamps by the TV, the room now fully lit and considerably more homey than it had felt before. He returned to the kitchen portion and the bags that still awaited him on the countertop.

"Alright, now how do we do this..." Flipping out his smartphone, he found the page that had engrossed him earlier, scrolling to the proper spot. "Wash...rice... ok. And then... soak in water for thirty minutes! What is this, caveman cooking? That's ridiculous!" His eyes turned back to the lonely bag of rice and he sighed resolutely.

"Fiiiine..."

He got to work washing the rice, dumping the entire thing into one large pot and swishing it around with his hand under the faucet. He prided himself in only losing a couple splashes of it down the drain. Not being quite sure when it was washed enough, after refilling it three times and growing quite tired, he called it good, hauling the pot back onto the counter to sit for its required thirty minutes.

"Goddamn rice..." He dried his hands off on his pants, then remembered the beer and brightened considerably. Sliding one from the case, he shoved the rest in the fridge, then made himself comfortable on his couch and flicked the TV onto the evening news.

Another dull night, apparently. Last week things had been exciting for a while - a housefire one night, reports of a kidnapping the next. The kidnapping had turned out to be a fraud, but that had just made things even more exciting. Tonight's top story appeared to be more reports about the inflated yen, and some famous person having their 80th birthday celebration. The one story that slightly worried him was the discovery of radioactive bags outside of a convenience store, but it was a few prefectures over, so he didn't let his mind dwell on it.

Thoroughly bored, he idly flipped through the channels, stopping on some mildly entertaining-looking talk show on Asahi.

Finishing off his beer made him want another one, and he realized it had probably been around thirty minutes, so he lugged himself back to his feet and over to the kitchen. With the snap of another beer can, he soon had the adequately soaked rice boiling over the stove, phone informing him that he now needed to cook it on medium heat for thirty to forty minutes.

He lazily stirred the thickening rice mixture as he took a drink from his beer.

"I'm tellin' ya, this is the _last_ time I make _this_." He gave his head a shake.

"Naga...se...?"

Nagase's heart gave the tiniest of jumps and he turned around on his heels. "Oh! Leader! You're up!"

Joshima stood in the doorway from the bedroom, a mixture of confusion and bedhead. His eyes squinted out into the brighter light of the kitchen, sweatshirt hanging limp from his shoulders more like a dress than anything else, down past the edge of his boxers and giving the impression he wasn't even wearing anything below his waist.

Liv wandered out behind him, shaking out her fur as she headed for her food bowl.

Nagase tilted his beer can towards the pot on the stove with relish. "I'm making you rice porridge! So you'll get better! My mom used to make it whenever I was sick."

The confused expression on the other's face remained, but he stepped further in the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes. There was a faint look of recognition as he glanced around, as though just now remembering exactly how he'd gotten here in the first place.

Nagase took a few steps towards him, cocking his head to the side. "You feeling any better?"

The other man rubbed his eyes again, then the rest of his face. "...'m a little out of it..."

"Well, _that_ I can see." Nagase laughed.

"My eyes hurt..."

"Your eyes hurt?"

"Mmn..." Joshima squinted again, staring up at Nagase's face. His eyes indeed appeared a bit tinged with red, and the muscles around them looked strained.

Nagase wasn't sure what to say for a moment. Then it dawned on him. "Well, maybe it's because you went and fell asleep before you took your contacts out, hm?" He reached a hand forward and flicked the other man's forehead.

"Ahh..." Joshima seemed completely unfazed, looking back out into the kitchen.

It was silent aside from the television, the laugh-track on it unusually loud.

Nagase chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Well. I brought your bag, so. You can get your glasses or whatever. Dinner will be ready in a little bit." He gestured towards the other's bag, still on the counter in the middle of the kitchen.

Joshima responded by lackadaisically pulling it off and heading back towards the bedroom. Nagase returned to stirring the porridge, which seemed to be bubbling up nicely.

When Joshima returned, he had his glasses on, hair mildly calmed down, and the blanket from the end of Nagase's bed wrapped around his shoulders. He trudged his way towards the sofa, letting himself sink tiredly into the cushions with the blanket circling his frame.

Nagase glanced over at him as he took another sip of beer. "You take the pills I left in there?"

"M'fine."

"I left those in there for you to take them, you know."

"I said I'm fine." Joshima didn't even look up at him, staring blankly at the television.

Nagase just frowned, looking back towards the pot to see if it was getting close to done.

"You thirsty or anything? Aren't sick people supposed to drink lots of liquids or something?" He started rifling through the fridge.

"I'm fine."

"Don't say you're fine, dummo. Tell me what you want to drink!"

There was a pause. Nagase looked over to see Joshima looking down towards his lap.

"...maybe some soda or something. Like Sprite."

Nagase felt relieved to finally get an answer, but the relief was short-lived when he realized he didn't even know if there was any soda in his fridge. He went back to his search, moving things out of the way and checking behind old cartons of leftovers.

Beer, beer, beer, beer... ah. He curled his hand around a half-full bottle of Micchan orange juice.

"How 'bout orange juice instead?"

Joshima glowered up at him. "Don't ask me what I want to drink if you don't have it!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Nagase waved his hands in defense, then reached up in the cupboards, pulling down a plastic cup with "Taka's Women Emporium" emblazoned on the side. He poured the remaining orange juice into it and walked towards the sofa. "Here you go."

Joshima took it wordlessly, looking small amongst the folds of the blanket.

When Nagase began his trek back, instead of going straight to the stove, he took a detour back to his bedroom, sneaking across to where the bottle of pills stood untouched on the bedside table.

"Fucking old man." He popped the lid open, letting four miniature capsules fall down into the palm of his hand. "Take your damn pills." Letting them slide down into his pocket, he walked back out to the kitchen with an air of innocence.

The porridge only took about five more minutes before it seemed about right, at least to Nagase's standards. He'd lost count of exactly how long it'd been, and he'd never figured out how to work the timer on his microwave, but he figured something as simple as porridge wouldn't differ _too_ much with only a slight time discrepancy. He turned the heat off and ladled a few scoops into a bowl, having to search around for a spoon before he carried it over to the couch. On the way, he slipped the pills from his pocket into the gooey mixture, stirring them around until they were quite hidden from sight.

"Look, you even get to use the bunny bowl."

"Bunny bowl?" Joshima gazed up at him incredulously.

"Yeah, it was my mom's!" Indeed, the sides of the bowl in his hands were lined with the simplified forms of painted bunnies.

"Should I feel entitled by this?"

"Hellz yeah! Not just anyone gets to use the bunny bowl." Nagase handed said bowl to the man on the couch, giving him a winning grin.

Joshima took it as wordlessly as he'd taken the orange juice, positioning it down in his lap.

"There's plenty more if you want seconds too, so eat up!" Nagase wiped his hands together and headed back to the kitchen, opening the fridge and finding the big chunk of salami he'd seen earlier, already gnawing on it as he returned to the sofa with his beer.

"That's all you're eating?" Joshima raised an eyebrow reproachfully as Nagase's rear end made itself comfortable on the cushion next to his.

"Should I be eating more?" Flecks of flayed salami flew past Nagase's lips as he spoke.

Joshima's frown only deepened. He spooned up a rather large glob of porridge, holding it near his mouth before waiting for it to cool. "Beer and meat. That's disgusting."

Nagase's eyes narrowed in on the spoon in Joshima's grasp, spotting one of the pills nestled in the bed of porridge in the spoon. The salami almost got caught in his throat.

"Leader! Let me help you with that!" The salami fell into his lap as he leaned forward, one arm around the smaller man's shoulders and the other taking the spoon from his hand.

"What are you doing? Stop that!" To no one's surprise, Joshima began flailing in the other's grasp, nearly sending the entire bowl of porridge to the floor.

"Choo choo choo, here comes the train!" Nagase fluttered the spoon around in the air completely unlike a train.

Joshima just pushed back at his face, fingers going up his nose. "Get away from me!"

Nagase responded by grabbed the other's jaw, forcing his face forward and opening his mouth. His other hand directed the spoonful into Joshima's mouth with the grace of a one-winged housefly.

"...there, we go." He moved Joshima's mouth up and down. "Nom nom nom. Tasty!"

Joshima remained still for about a moment more, waiting until he'd at least swallowed, and then giving Nagase another big push. "Stop it already!"

Nagase put on a big frown, finding the salami that had half-fallen into the couch and giving it a ferocious bite.

The silence returned.

Joshima stared straight ahead at the TV, glowering as he continued eating his porridge. Nagase did likewise, munching at the huge chunk of meat in his hand.

"I'm going home when I'm done."

"You're not going home."

"I'll walk home."

"You're not walking home, idiot."

"I have things I have to get done tomorrow. I need to go home."

"You don't have anything you need to do tomorrow. You're sick."

"I'm feeling just fine."

"You're not feeling fine at all."

"I'm going home and you're not stopping me."

Nagase gave up replying, simply shooting him another glare as he finished up the last of the giant salami log, washing it down with another sip of beer.

Joshima continued shoving spoonfuls of porridge into his mouth, eyes fixed on the TV.

Which continued to spout off quips in the uninteresting post-dinner talk show it was currently broadcasting.

It was silent save that damn laugh-track which kept biting through the speakers.

Thirty minutes later, the talk-show had changed to a stand-up comedy show, the porridge was gone, with the empty bowl resting in Joshima's lap, and Joshima's head was angled back against the top of the couch cushion, eyes closed as whispy little snores drifted from his nose.

"You're not going home." Nagase stuck his tongue out at Joshima's sleeping form.

With a satisfied thump on Joshima's knee, he pushed himself to his feet, gathering up the discarded bowl and spoon, as well as his empty beer can, and taking them over to the sink. There was still plenty of porridge left in the pot, but he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. If it'd been his own food, he'd just stick a paper towel over the top of it or something and leave it on the stove, but as it was for Joshima, his own shoddy methods of food preservation didn't seem good enough. He dug around in his cupboards, coming up with a tupperware container he hadn't even known he owned, scooping the remaining porridge inside and placing it in the fridge next to the case of beer.

The rest of the mess on the cupboards seemed unimportant in the big scheme of things, so he gladly left them, instead padding back to the sofa and bending down to scoop Joshima into his arms. The other man settled limply against his chest, legs dangling down loose below him, occasionally bumping against Nagase's as he started towards the bedroom.

"...m'put me... down..." It came out soft and mumbled up near Nagase's ear.

"I'll put you down in bed, dorkus. I'll take the couch." He gave Joshima's rear end a comforting little pat.

"M'not sick..."

"Of course you're not." Nagase got to the bed and let Joshima slide off his shoulder onto the bedding. It was still unmade from earlier, so it was easy to slip him inside the sheets, taking his glasses from his face in the process and setting them on the bedside table before curling the covers up around his chin, Joshima instinctively burrowing his face into the pillow.

Nagase took the opportunity to feel his forehead again, and his earlier frown returned when the same heat from before radiated against his palm. He sat back, just staring down at him in the dim light.

"You're an idiot. If I was sick, I'd be bitching at the other three until they got me free stuff and soup, and I'd stay at home as long as I could milk it." He pursed his lips together, staying a moment longer before finally pushing back to his feet, heading towards the closet so he could strip his clothes off and pile them into the already over-flowing hamper just inside the door. Scratching at his chest, he meandering back to the living room in his boxers, kneeling down by Liv's kennel where she was already half-asleep, curled up on her Harley-themed doggie bed. Giving her ears a little rustle, he leaned down until he could plant a kiss on her head.

"'Night girl. Get some sleep."

The remote was nearby on the far end of the couch, so he grabbed it, thumbing down the power button and making the room quite a bit more silent in the process. He scratched at his stubble, looking around. He had the blanket Joshima'd brought in from the other room, but he had a feeling something that light would have him waking up in the middle of the night shivering. He had a few extras back in the closet, didn't he? He rubbed his at the rest of his face and returned once more to the bedroom.

It didn't take him long to find the blankets - underneath some of his haphazardly discarded t-shirts towards the back. Gathering them under his arm, he closed the closet door softly behind him, starting back for the door.

Only to stop when he heard Joshima let out a little murmur from in the bed.

He stood there a moment, unsure. His eyes blinked in the darkness, only just able to make out the form of the bed.

Then he walked towards it, kneeling down beside it so he was level with Joshima's head. The other man murmured again, just barely under his breath, laced with a shiver.

Nagase bit his lip. "You cold, Joh?"

There was no response. But he hadn't really been expecting one.

He sighed, toes curling into the carpet below his feet.

Goddammit.

Glancing back over his shoulder, his eyes went to the door, followed by a sweep of the room, his mind paranoid for some reason.

At long length, he pushed himself up, setting the blankets down on the bed before crawling on himself. He slid himself to the other side, mattress dipping beneath his hands and knees, then pulled the covers up over his legs so he could situate himself all the way down inside.

"C'mere..."

His arms were out, large hands taking a hold of Joshima's waist and pulling him like a limp slug across the bed.

Joshima let out a murmur of disapproval, instinctively trying to pull away, but Nagase had no troubles pulling him all the way against his chest, curling around him like a Nagase blanket. The other man's body felt tiny inside his own, and within a matter of moments, the efforts to get away had ceased, replaced by the feeling of Joshima's cheek pressing up against his chest.

Nagase smiled in spite of himself.

And when Joshima's shivers finally ceased, he allowed himself to close his eyes as well, settling his head back into the pillow as one hand traced gently along the curve of Joshima's back.

\-----------------

When Nagase woke up the next morning, Joshima was draped over him like a piece of uncooked spaghetti. The blinds were closed, but pieces of light were still cutting their way through, one particularly strong ray landing right on the underside of his eyes.

He blinked, rubbing at his face. He felt gross, and remembered why when he realized he hadn't taken a shower the night before. He'd also need to shave if the way his stubble was beginning to feel less and less like stubble and more like a full-out beard was any indication.

With the memory of his not-showering came the rest of the memories from the night before, easing away the moment of brief panic he'd felt upon first seeing his bandleader in bed with him. He brought a hand up, threading it through the mop of Joshima's hair, and forcing his still-sleeping face up so he could see it, the other's mouth falling open slightly in the process.

"You are so annoying, you know that?"

A dribble of drool leaked over Joshima's bottom lip in response.

"And now I suppose you're gonna want food when you wake up, huh? So demanding!"

He eased the other man's body off and to the side, sliding back down onto the bedding with his arms flopping limply off to his sides. Nagase scootched himself towards the end of the bed so he could bedraggedly get to his feet, shaking his head back in Joshima's direction before wandering out into the kitchen.

He'd forgotten to turn off all the lights the night before, so they were glaring at him now in all their reproachfully wasteful glory. He mussed at his hair as though maybe feeling bad, but in the end just stepped over towards the fridge to begin rifling through it. Liv poked her head up from her bed, already awake, and Nagase glanced down at the flash of movement.

"Sleep well?"

Liv's eyes gazed at him morosely.

"Yeah, the old man's still here, sorry."

She let out a prolonged sniff.

"I know, I know, he's crampin' our style." Nagase pulled out the tub of porridge, giving it a sniff to make sure it still seemed alright.

Liv's eyes followed Nagase as he emptied out the contents into a bowl and headed for the microwave. He set it for a minute, watching the bowl spin around and around on the tray inside.

"Not quite as fun as the girls that usually come over, eh?" The timer went off and he reached his hands up to take the bowl, giving a little yelp when it was considerably hotter than he'd expected it to be, and grabbing a paper towel to guard himself against the heat.

"You always talk to yourself in the morning?"

Nagase set the bowl on the counter, not even turning around. "Oh, hey babe. I'm just fixing your breakfast."

It was out before he realized it, and once it dawned on him what he'd just said, his shoulders stiffened, eyes wide as he stared down at the bowl of porridge.

It was silent behind him.

It was silent behind him for what seemed like a long time.

His tongue felt thick in his mouth.

And finally.

"...I'd appreciate if you didn't treat me like one of your conquests..." It was quiet, the voice itself a bit shaky.

Nagase swallowed hard, then forced the smile back across his face and picked up the bowl, not even minding the heat this time. "R-right. Sorry, it kinda slipped out." He turned around, but Joshima wasn't looking at him, already dragging himself towards the couch and the blanket still haphazardly draped across it from the night before. He pulled it over his shoulders as he sat down.

Nagase brought the bowl over to him along with a spoon. "Careful, it's hot..." He set it down next to him rather than into his hands. "I'm gonna shower... I'll just, drop you off at your place before I go in today, ok?"

Joshima nodded wordlessly.

Nagase escaped back into his bedroom, face abnormally hot.

He spent longer in the shower than he usually did, letting the water run over his face.

He spent longer in the closet as well, for some reason unable to decide if he wanted to wear his "Dicks Ultd." or his "Bahama Mama" t-shirt. He finally decided on his army-green pullover instead.

By the time he wandered back to the kitchen, Joshima was back in his clothes from yesterday, sorting through the things in his bag. The porridge bowl was sitting on the counter, completely clean, and Liv was lounging on the sofa to Joshima's other side.

Upon noticing Nagase, Joshima glanced up, getting to his feet to head back towards him. "Here... thanks..." He handed the sweatshirt to him, not quite looking up at his face.

Nagase took it, kneading it in his fingers. "No problem..." He stared down at the fabric.

True to his word, Nagase drove Joshima back to his own apartment. They were silent on the road, so he turned the radio back on, humming along to the oldies taking his mind off the awkwardness creeping along the back of his neck.

"It's this one, right?" Nagase'd never actually been in Joshima's place before, but he'd gone with the others a few times to pick him up or drop him off.

Joshima nodded. "Just pull up along the sidewalk here and I'll get out."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, this is fine."

Nagase did as he was told, directing the truck along the sidewalk and pulling in as close as he could.

"You need any help carrying things?"

Joshima raised an eyebrow. "Nagase. I have two small bags."

Nagase raised his hands defensively. "It was just a question."

"I'll be fine." Joshima's hand found the handle to the door, popping it open with one foot already down on the cement. "Anyway... thanks."

Nagase rubbed his nose. "No problem. Get some rest, ok?"

"I will..." Joshima turned back towards Nagase, a weird little half-smile on his face, not quite happy and not quite sad.

Nagase blinked in response, not quite sure what to say and his own face hanging down in an altogether blank expression.

Then Joshima shut the door.

And Nagase watched him all the way inside the door to his apartment building.

When Nagase got home again later that night, he spent the majority of the evening on the sofa with Liv's head in his lap, downing a few beers as he scratched beneath her collar, the dark-red sweatshirt warm and snug around his shoulders. The laugh-track from the television did nothing to distract Nagase's mind from imagining just what it _would_ be like if Joshima was beneath him like all those girls, body small and heated between his arms pushed down into the mattress, urging Nagase's hips forward again and again and again.

Liv whined from her place in his lap, and Nagase gave her ears an extra kerfluffle.

"Yeah, I miss him too."


End file.
